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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  873-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 
Microfiche 
ries. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notus  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exerrplaire 
qu'il  liii  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurei.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qu:  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographioue,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  ia  m^thode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 


□ 


Coloured  covers/ 
J    Couverture  de  cGuleur 


n 


n 


Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagee 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^e  et/ou  pellicul^u 


Cover  title  missing/ 
I I    Le  titre  de  couverture  manqua 


Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  g^ographiqucs  en  coulenr 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


D 
D 
D 
□ 


Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endcmmag^es 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  pelliculees 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d6color6es,  tachetf^os  ou  piqu^es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  detach^e? 


QShowthrough/ 
Transparence 


□    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


D 


Bound  Vi/iih  other  material/ 
Relie  avec  d'autres  documents 


n 


Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Qualite  inegale  de  I'impression 

Includes  sunplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 


D 


Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serree  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intdrieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajout6es 
lors  dune  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'cnt 
pas  6t6  filmdes. 


n 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponihie 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  tutalement  ou  partieilement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'?rrata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  filmdes  c  nouveau  de  facon  ci 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


n 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppldmentaires; 


This  item  is  filmed  at  tha  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  filmd  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu^  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


L 


y 


12X 


16X 


20X 


26X 


30X 


1 


24X 


28X 


32X 


ils 

u 

lifier 

ne 

age 


The  copy  filmdd  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  bbst  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


L'exemplaire  filmd  fut  reproduit  grdce  d  la 
g^n^rosit^  de: 

Biblioth^'fue  nationale  du  Canada 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  te 
pluc  grand  soin,  compte  tenrj  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetd  de  l'exemplaire  filmd,  et  en 
conformity  avec  Iss  conditions  du  contrat  de 
fiimage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  anJ  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprim6e  sont  filmds  en  commen^ant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
de.'nidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmds  en  commenpant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminanv  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  ea^h  microfiche 
shail  contain  the  symbol  — ^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED "),  or  the  symbol  V  (meaning   'END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  do  ohaque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbcle  — •►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios   Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  botiom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmds  A  des  taux  de  r^duc'ion  diff^rents. 
Lo  sque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichd,  il  est  film6  d  partir 
de  Tangle  supdrieur  gauche,  de  gauche  S  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nonibre 
d'images  n^cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


rata 
) 


elure. 


3 


32X 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

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I 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  TREES 
60THER  POEMS  I  ^\"r^„^E3 : 


>fTd>tSQT 


LAMS0N.W0LFFE6Ca 
BOSTON  AND  mvi  YORK 
WILLIAM  BRIGGS.  TORONTO 


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Copyright,  1895, 

By  Lamson,  Wolflfe,  &  Co. 

All  rights  reserved. 


To  F.  B. 


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Many  of  the  poems  in  this  volume  are  printed  here  for 
the  first  time;  several,  however,  have  appeared  in  either 
the  "  New  York  Independent,"  the  ••  New  England  Mag- 
azine," the  "Youth's Companion,"  the  "Toronto Week," 
or  the  "  Travelers'  Record,"  and  to  their  editors  thanks 
are  due  for  permission  to  reprint  them. 


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Contents 


The  House  of  the  Trees 

The  Sun  on  the  Trees 

Moonlight 

Pine  Needles 

The  Sound  of  the  Axe 

The  Prayer  of  the  Year 

The  Hay  Field 

Twilight 

The  Sky  Path 

Fall  and  Spring 

The  Woodside  Way 

A  Rainy  Day 

When  Twilight  Comes 

Leafless  April 

The  Visitors 

Autumn  Days 

Woodland  Worship 

When  Days  Are  Long 

Out  of  Doors 

Make  Room 

The  Humming  Bird 

September 

The  March  Orchard 

The  Blind  Man 


Page  3 

4 

5 
6 

7 
9 

10 
12 

13 

14 

15 
i6 

»7 
x8 

19 

20 
21 
22 

23 
24 

25 
26 

28 

30 


i 


1 


i 


To  the  October  Wind 

A  Midday  in  Midsummer 

A  Slow  Rain 

The  Patient  Earth 

At  Dawr 

In  the  Crowd 

By  Fields  of  Grass 

October 

Winter 

The  Snow-Storm 

To  February 

Rest 

The  Shy  Sun 

In  April 

Apple  Blossoms 

The  Big  Moon 

The  Twins 

Autumn  Fire 

In  the  Grass 

The  Fields  of  Dark 

Children  in  the  City 

Where  Pleasures  Grow 

In  the  Heart  of  the  Woods 

Frost 

The  Chipmunk 

Give  Me  tne  Poorest  Weed 

The  Weeks  that  Walk  in  Green 

Noonday  of  the  Year 

The  Wind  World 


Page  32 

At 

33 

Coi 

35 

A  I 

36 

Jun 

39 

Beg 

41 

42 

Not 

43 

The 

44 

Phi 

45 

The 

46 

Uns 

47 

Unr 

48 

The 

49 

Linf 

50 

Thr 

51 

Son 

53      ^ 

i    J°y 

55 

In  tl 

56 

1       Woi 

57 

The 

59 

60 

61 

62 

63 

64 

65 

66 

67 

^•'mmh:'*'t'^y.^>-^nW-i^Sflmlmv'- 


i 


32 
33 
35 
36 

39 

41 
42 

43 

44 

45 
46 

47 
48 

49 
SO 
51 
53 
55 
56 
57 

59 
60 

61 

62 

63 
64 

65 

66 

67 


At  the  Window 

Page  68 

Come  Back  Again 

^9 

69 

A  Rainy  Morning 

71 

June  Apples 

72 

Beginning  and  End 

73 

Not  at  Home 

75 

The  Wind  of  Memory 

76 

Philippa 

78 

The  Student 

79 

Unspoken 

80 

Under  the  King 

83 

The  Secret 

84 

Limitation 

85 

Three  Years  Old 

86 

Sometime,  I  Fear 

83 

Joy 

89 

In  the  Dark 

91 

V^ords 

92 

The  Wind  of  Death 

93 

if; 


II 


'I 


II 


^fmffmmmm^:^:^^^^ 


The  House  of  the  Trees 


I  !i 


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The  House  of  the  Trees 


OPE  your  doors  and  take  me  in, 
Spirit  of  the  wood ; 
Wash  me  clean  of  dust  and  din, 
Clothe  me  in  your  mood. 

Take  me  from  th  =*  noisy  light 

To  the  su'  less  peace, 
Where  at  midday  standeth  Night, 

Signing  Toil's  release. 

All  your  dusky  twilight  stores 

To  my  senses  give ; 
Take  me  in  and  lock  the  doors, 

Show  me  how  to  live. 

Lift  your  leafy  roof  for  me, 
Part  your  yielding  walls, 

Let  mt  wander  lingeringly 
Through  your  scented  halls. 

Ope  your  doors  and  take  me  in, 

Spirit  of  the  wood  ; 
Take  me  —  make  me  next  of  kin 

To  your  leafy  brood. 


!l 


Mi: 


i  n 


i  4; 


The  Son  on  the  Trees 

THE  sun  within  the  leafy  woods 
Is  like  a  midday  moon, 
So  soft  upon  these  solitudes 
Is  bent  the  face  of  noon. 


Loosed  from  the  outside  summer  blaze 

A  few  gold  arrows  stray  ; 
A  vagrant  brilliance  droops  or  plays 

Through  all  the  dusky  day. 

The  gray  trunk  feels  a  touch  of  light, 
While,  where  dead  leaves  are  deep, 

A  gleam  of  sunshine  golden  white 
Lies  like  a  soul  asleep. 

And  just  beyond  dank-rooted  ferns. 
Where  darkening  hemlocks  sigh 

And  leaves  are  dim,  the  bare  road  burns 
Beneath  a  dazzling  sky. 


ts 


Moonlight 


laze 


t, 


irns 


WHEN  I  see  the  ghost  of  night 
Stealing  through  my  window-pane, 
Silken  sleep  and  silver  light 

Struggle  for  my  soul  in  vain  ; 
Silken  sleep  all  balmily 

Breathes  upon  my  lids  oppressed, 
Till  I  sudden  start  to  see 
Ghostly  fingers  on  my  breast. 

White  and  skyey  visitant. 

Bringing  beauty  such  as  stings 
All  my  inner  soul  to  pant 

After  undiscovered  things, 
Spare  me  this  consummate  pain  ! 

Silken  weavings  intercreep 
Round  my  senses  once  again, 

I  am  mortal  —  let  me  sleep. 


'  ■1*-' 


ll 


Pine  Needles 

HERE  where  the  pine  tree  to  the  ground 
Lets  slip  its  fragrant  load, 
My  footsteps  fall  without  a  sound 
Upon  a  velvet  road. 

O  poet  pine,  that  turns  thy  gaze 

Alone  unto  the  sky, 
How  softly  on  earth's  common  ways 

Thy  sweet  thoughts  fall  and  lie  ! 

So  sweet,  so  deep,  seared  by  the  sun, 

And  smitten  by  the  rain, 
They  pierce  the  heart  of  every  one 

With  fragrance  keen  as  pain. 

Or  if  some  pass  nor  heed  their  sweet. 

Nor  feel  their  subtle  dart, 
Their  softness  stills  the  noisy  feet, 

And  stills  the  noisy  heart. 

O  poet  pine,  thy  needles  high 

In  starry  light  abode, 
And  now  for  footsore  passers-by 

They  make  a  velvet  road. 
6 


■A^mt*^m>ffimwm^mM^^ 


The  Sound  of  the  Axe 

WITH  the  sound  of  an  axe  on  the  light 
wind's  tracks 
For  my  only  company, 
And  a  speck  of  sky  like  a  human  eye 
Blue,  bending  over  me, 

I  lie  at  rest  on  the  low  moss  pressed, 
Whose  loose  leaves  downv^ard  drip  ; 

As  light  they  move  as  a  word  of  love 
Or  a  finger  to  the  lip. 

*Neath  the  canopies  of  the  sunbright  trees 

Pierced  by  an  Autumn  ray, 
To  rich  red  flakes  the  old  log  breaks 

In  exquisite  decay. 

While  in  the  pines  where  no  sun  shines 

Perpetual  morning  lies. 
What  bed  more  sweet  could  stay  her  feet, 

Or  hold  her  dreaming  eyes  ? 

No  sound  is  there  in  the  middle  air 
But  sudden  wings  that  soar, 


' 


r 


-A 


v.* 


As  a  strange  bird's  cry  goes  drifting  by  — 
And  then  I  hear  once  more 

That  sound  of  an  axe  till  the  great  tree  cracks. 

Then  a  crash  comes  as  if  all 
The  winds  that  through  its  bright  leaves  blew 

Were  sorrowing  in  its  fall. 


8 


The  Prayer  of  the  Year 

LEAVE  me  Hope  when  I  am  old, 
Strip  my  joys  from  me, 
Let  November  to  the  cold 

Bare  each  leafy  tree ; 
Chill  my  lover,  dull  my  friend. 

Only,  while  I  grope 
To  the  dark  the  silent  end, 
Leave  me  Hope ! 

Blight  my  bloom  when  I  am  old, 

Bid  my  sunlight  cease  ; 
If  it  need  be  from  my  hold 

Take  the  hand  of  Peace. 
Leave  no  springtime  memory, 

But  upon  the  slope 
Of  the  days  that  are  to  be, 

Leave  me  Hope ! 


j 


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9 


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f  < 


The  Hay  Field 

WITH  slender  arms  outstretching  in  the 
sun 
The  grass  lies  dead  ; 
The  wind  walks  tenderly,  and  stirs  not  one 
Frail,  fallen  head. 

Of  baby  creepings  through  the  April  day 

Where  streamlets  wend, 
Of  childlike  dancing  on  the  breeze  of  May, 

This  is  the  end. 

No  more  these  tiny  forms  are  bathed  in  dew, 

No  more  they  reach. 
To  hold  with  leaves  that  shade  them  from 
the  blue 

A  whispered  speech. 

No  more  they  part  their  arms,  and  wreathe 
them  close 

Again  to  shield 
Some  love-full  little  nest  —  a  dainty  house 

Hid  in  a  field. 


lO 


For  them  no  more  the  splendor  of  the  storm, 

The  fair  delights 
Of  moon  and  star-shine,  glimmering  faint  and 
warm 

On  summer  nights. 

Their  little  lives  they  yield  in  summer  death. 

And  frequently 
Across  the  field  bereaved  their  dying  breath 

Is  brought  to  me. 


il 


'ill 
t 


zz 


Twilight 


I  SAW  her  walking  in  the  rain, 
And  sweetly  drew  she  nigh  ; 
And  then  she  crossed  the  hills  again 

To  bid  che  day  good-by. 
"  Good-by  !  good-by  ! 

The  world  is  dim  as  sorrow  ; 
But  close  beside  the  morning  sky 
I  '11  say  a  glad  Good-morrow  !  " 

O  dweller  in  the  darling  wood, 

When  near  to  death  I  lie, 
Come  from  your  leafy  solitude. 

And  bid  my  soul  good-by. 
Good-by !  good-by ! 

The  world  is  dim  as  sorrow; 
But  close  beside  the  morning  sky 

O  say  a  glad  Good-morrow ! 


za 


The  Sky  Path 

I  HEAR  the  far  moon's  silver  call 
High  in  the  upper  wold  ; 
And  shepherd-  like  it  gathers  all 
My  thoughts  into  its  fold. 

Oh  happy  thoughts,  that  wheresoe'er 
They  wander  through  the  day, 

Come  home  at  eve  to  upper  air 
Along  a  shining  way. 

Though  some  are  weary,  some  are  torn, 
And  some  are  fain  to  grieve, 

And  some  the  ireshness  of  the  morn 
Have  kept  until  the  eve, 

And  some  perversely  seek  to  roam 
E'en  from  their  shepherd  bright, 

Yet  all  are  gathered  safely  home, 
And  folded  for  the  night. 

Oh  happy  thoughts,  that  with  the  streams 
The  trees  and  iricadows  share 

The  sky  path  to  the  gate  of  dreams, 
In  their  white  shepherd's  care. 

13 


'fi 


I  II 


H 


Fall  and  Spring 

FROM  the  time  the  wind  wakes 
To  the  time  of  snowflakes, 
That 's  the  time  the  heart  aches 

Every  cloudy  day ; 
That 's  the  time  the  heart  takes 
Thought  of  all  its  heart-breaks. 
That 's  the  time  the  heart  makes 
Life  a  cloudy  way. 

From  the  time  the  grass  creeps 
To  the  time  the  wind  sleeps, 
That 's  the  time  the  heart  leaps 

To  the  golden  ray ; 
That 's  the  time  that  joy  sweeps 
Through  the  depths  of  heart-deeps, 
That 's  the  time  the  heart  keeps 

Happy  holiday. 


I 

(I 
(I 

1 
A 

E 
A 


14 


i 


The  Woodside  Way 

I  WANDERED  down  the  woodside  way. 
Where    branching    doors    ope    with    the 
breeze, 
And  saw  a  little  child  at  play 
Among  the  strong  and  lovely  trees  ; 
The  dead  leaves  rustled  to  her  knees  ; 
Her  hair  and  eyes  were  brov/n  as  they. 

"  Oh,  little  child,"  I  softly  said, 

**  You  come  a  long,  long  way  to  me  ; 

The  trees  that  tower  overhead 

Are  here  in  sweet  reality, 

But  you  're  the  child  I  used  to  be. 

And  all  the  leaves  of  May  you  tread." 


15 


,  ^Jyl 


A  Rainy  Day 

IT  has  been  twilight  all  the  day, 
And  as  the  twilight  peace 
On  daily  fetters  seems  to  lay 
The  finger  of  release, 

So,  needless  as  to  tree  and  flower 
Seem  care  and  fear  and  pain ; 

Our  hearts  grow  fresher  every  hour, 
And  brighten  in  the  rain. 


A 

N 
B 


!  : 


i6 


When  Twilight  Comes 

ALL  out  of  doors  for  all  life's  way, 
The  fields  and  the  woods  and  the  good 
sunlight ; 
And  then  in  the  chill  of  the  evening  gray, 
A  sheltered  nook  and  the  hearth-fire  bright. 

No  hearth,  no  shelter  attend  my  way ! 

Not  late,  dear  Ufe,  linger  not  too  late; 
But  before  the  chill  and  before  the  gray, 

Let  the  sunset  gild  the  grave-stone  date. 


■4 


17 


Leafless  April 

LEAFLESS  April  chased  by  light, 
Chased  by  dark  and  full  of  laughter. 
Stays  a  moment  in  her  flight 

Where  the  warmest  breezes  waft  her, 
By  the  meadow  brook  to  lean, 

Or  where  winter  rye  is  growing, 
Showing  in  a  lovelier  green 

Where  her  wayward  steps  are  going. 

Blithesome  April  brown  and  warm, 

Showing  slimness  through  her  tatters, 
Chased  by  sun  or  chased  by  storm  — 

Not  a  whit  to  her  it  matters. 
Swiftly  through  the  violet  bed, 

Down  to  where  the  stream  is  flooding 
Light  she  flits  —  and  round  her  head 

See  the  orchard  branches  budding  ! 


i8 


The  Visitors 

IN  the  room  where  I  was  sleeping 
The  sun  came  to  the  floor ; 
Its  silent  thought  went  leaping 
To  where  in  woods  of  yore 
It  felt  the  sun  before. 

At  noon  the  rain  was  slanting 
In  gray  lines  from  the  west ; 

A  hurried  child  all  panting 
It  pattered  to  my  nest, 
And  smiled  when  sun-caressed. 

At  eve  the  wind  was  flying 
Bird-hke  from  bed  to  chair, 

Of  brown  leaves  sere  and  dying 
It  brought  enough  to  spare, 
And  dropped  them  here  and  there. 

At  night-time  without  warning, 
I  felt  almost  to  pain 

The  soul  of  the  sun  in  the  morning, 
And  the  soul  of  the  wind  and  rain 
In  my  sleeping-room  remain. 


19 


Autumn  Days 

AUTUMN  days  are  sun  crowned, 
Full  of  laughing  breath  ; 
Light  their  leafy  feet  are  dancing 
Down  the  way  to  death. 

Scarlet-shrouded  to  the  grave 

I  watch  them  gayly  go  ; 
So  may  I  as  blithely  die 

Before  November  snow. 


20 


VA 


ed, 


Woodland  Worship 

HERE  'mid  these  leafy  walls 
Are  sylvan  halls, 
And  all  the  Sabbaths  of  the  year 
Afvj  gathered  here. 

Upon  their  raptured  mood 

My  steps  intrude, 
Then  wait  —  as  some  freed  soul  might  wait 

At  heaven's  gate. 

Nowhere  on  earth  —  nowhere 

On  sea  or  air, 
Do  I  as  easily  escape 

This  earthly  shape, 

As  here  upon  the  white 

And  dizzy  height 
Of  utmost  worship,  where  it  seems 

Too  still  for  dreams. 


21 


When  Days  Are  Long 

WHEN  twilight  late  delayeth, 
And  morning  wakes  in  song, 
And  fields  are  full  of  daisies, 
I  know  the  days  are  long ; 
When  Toil  is  stretched  at  nooning, 

Where  leafy  pleasures  throng, 
When  nights  o'errun  in  music, 
I  know  the  day^  are  long. 

When  suns  afoot  are  marching, 

And  rains  are  quick  and  strong. 
And  streams  speak  in  a  whisper, 

I  know  the  days  are  long. 
When  hills  are  clad  in  velvet, 

And  winds  can  do  no  wrong, 
And  woods  are  deep  and  dusky, 

I  know  the  days  are  long. 


22 


.  t 


h 


Iff 


I, 


Out  of  Doors 

IN  the  urgent  solitudes 
Lies  the  spur  to  larger  moods  ; 
In  the  friendship  of  the  trees 
Dwell  all  sweet  serenities. 


33 


Make  Rooin 


ROOM  for  the  children  out  of  doors, 
For  heads  of  gold  or  gloom  ; 
For  raspberry  lips  and  rose-leaf  cheeks  and 
palms, 
Make  room  —  make  room  ! 

Room  for  the  springtime  out  of  doors, 

For  buds  in  green  or  bloom  ; 
For  every  brown  bare-handed  country  weed 

Make  room  —  make  room  ! 

Room  for  earth's  sweetest  out  of  doors, 

And  for  its  worst  a  tomb ; 
For  housed-up  griefs  and  fears,  and  scorns, 
and  sighs. 

No  room  —  no  room  ! 


H 


I 

1 


ia 


5  and       I 


veed 


orns, 


The  Humming  Bird 

AGAINST  my  window-pane 
He  plunges  at  a  mass 
Of  buds  —  and  strikes  in  vain 
The  intervening  glass. 

O  sprite  of  wings  and  fire 
Outstretching  eagerly, 

My  soul  with  like  desire 
To  probe  thy  mystery, 

Comes  close  as  breast  to  bloom. 
As  bud  to  hot  heart-beat, 

And  gains  no  inner  room. 
And  drains  no  hidden  sweet. 


25 


l\ 


September 


I"  ■  V 


BUT  yesterday  all  faint  for  breath, 
The  Summer  laid  her  down  to  die  ; 
And  now  her  frail  ghost  wandereth 

In  every  breeze  that  loiters  by. 
Her  wilted  prisoners  look  up, 

As  wondering  who  hath  broke  their  chain. 
Too  deep  they  drank  of  summer's  cup, 
They  have  no  strength  to  rise  again. 

How  swift  the  trees,  their  mistress  gone, 

Enrobe  themselves  for  revelry  ! 
Ungovernable  winds  upon 

The  v/old  are  dancing  merrily. 
"With  crimson  fruits  and  bursting  nuts. 

And  whirling  leaves  and  flushing  streams. 
The  spirit  of  September  cuts 

Ad-ift  from  August's  languid  dreams. 

A  little  while  the  revellers 

Shall  flame  and  flaunt  and  have  their  day. 
And  then  will  come  the  messengers 

Who  travel  on  a  cloudy  way. 


26 


ain, 


e, 


ns, 


ay, 


And  after  them  a  form  of  light, 
A  sense  of  iron  in  the  air, 

Upon  the  pulse  a  touch  of  might 
And  winter's  legions  everywhere. 


27 


( 

! 


ri  f 


If  > 
I 


The  March  Orchard 

UNLEAVED,  undrooping,  still, they  stand, 
This  stanch  and  patient  pilgrim  band ; 
October  robbed  them  of  their  fruit, 
November  stripped  them  to  the  root, 
The  winter  smote  their  helplessness 
With  furious  ire  and  stormy  stress, 
And  now  they  seem  almost  to  stand 
In  sight  of  Summer's  Promised  Land. 

Yet  seen  through  frosty  window-panes, 
When  bared  and  bound  in  wintry  chains, 
Their  lightsome  spirits  seemed  to  play 
With  February  as  with  May. 
The  snow  that  turned  the  skies  afrown 
Enwrapt  them  in  the  softest  down, 
And  rains  that  dulled  the  landscape  o'er 
But  left  them  livelier  than  before. 

But  now  this  June-like  day  of  March 
With  patient  strength  their  branches  arch, 
Not  as  unmindful  of  the  breeze 
That  makes  midsummer  melodies. 


28 


Id, 


But  knowing  Spring  a  fickle  maid, 
And  that  rough  days  must  dawn  and  fade 
Bef  jre,  all  blossoming  bright,  they  stand 
In  sight  of  Summer's  Promised  Land. 


i 


t] 


29 


•r 


H 

I; 


111 


hi 

m 

Ik 


The  Blind  Man 

THE  blind  man  at  his  window  bars 
Stands  in  the  morning  ^.ewy  dim  ; 
The  lily-footed  dawn,  the  stars 

That  wait  for  it,  are  naught  to  him. 

And  naught  to  his  unseeing  eyes 
The  brownness  of  a  sunny  plain, 

Where  worn  and  drowsy  August  lies. 
And  wakens  but  to  sleep  again. 

And  naught  to  him  a  greening  slope, 
That  yearns  up  to  the  heights  above. 

And  naught  the  leaves  of  May,  that  ope 
As  softly  as  the  eyes  of  love^ 

And  naught  to  him  the  branching  aisles, 
Athrong  w^ith  woodland  worshippers. 

And  naught  the  fields  where  summer  smiles 
Among  her  sunburned  laborers. 

The  way  a  trailing  streamlet  goes. 
The  barefoot  grasses  on  its  brim. 

The  dew  a  flower  cup  o'erflows 
^A^ith  silent  joy,  are  hid  from  him. 

30 


To  him  no  breath  of  nature  calls  ; 

Upon  his  desk  his  work  is  laid ; 
He  looks  up  at  the  dingy  walls, 

And  listens  to  the  voice  of  Trade. 


i. 


m 


31 


ii; 


To  the  October  Wind 

OLD  playmate,  showering  the  way 
With  thick  leaf  storms  in  red  and  gold, 
I  'm  only  six  years  old  to-day, 

You  've  made  me  feel  but  six  years  old. 
In  yellow  gown  and  scarlet  hood 

I  whirled,  a  leaf  among  the  rest, 
Or  lay  within  the  thinning  wood. 
And  played  that  you  were  Red-of-breast. 

Old  comrade,  lift  me  up  again  ; 

y  w»ur  arms  are  strong,  your  feet  are  swift, 
And  bear  me  lightly  down  the  lane 

Through  all  the  leaves  that  drift  and  drift, 
And  out  into  the  twilight  wood. 

And  lay  me  softly  down  to  rest, 
And  cover  me  just  as  you  would 

If  you  were  really  Red-of-breast. 


u 


m 


'*!  ( 


32 


A  Midday  in  Midsummer 

THE  sky's  great  curtains  downward  steal, 
The  earth's  fair  company 
Of  trees  and  streams  and  meadows  feel 
A  sense  of  privacy. 

Upon  the  vast  expanse  of  heat 

Light-footed  breezes  pace  ; 
To  waves  of  gold  they  tread  the  wheat, 

Thty  lift  the  sunflower's  face. 

The  cruel  sun  is  blotted  out, 

The  west  is  black  with  rain. 
The  drooping  leaves  in  mingled  doubt 

And  hope  look  up  again. 

The  weeds  and  grass  on  tiptoe  stand, 

A  strange  exultant  thrill 
Prepares  the  dazed  uncertain  land 

For  the  wild  tempest's  will. 

The  wind  grows  big  and  breathes  aloud 

As  it  runs  hurrying  past ; 
At  one  sharp  blow  the  thunder-cloud 

Lets  loose  the  furious  blast. 

33 


i 


' 


The  earth  is  beaten,  drenched  and   irowned, 

The  elements  go  mad  ; 
Swift  streams  of  joy  flow  o'er  the  ground, 

And  all  the  leaves  are  glad. 

Then  comes  a  momentary  lull, 

The  darkest  clouds  are  furled. 
And  lo,  new  washed  and  beautiful 

And  breathless  gleams  the  world. 


34 


A  Slow  Rain 


A  DROWSY  rain  is  stealing 
In  slowness  without  stop ; 
The  sun-dried  earth  is  feeling 
Its  coolness,  drop  by  drop. 

The  clouds  are  slowly  wasting 
Their  too  long  garnered  store, 

Each  thirsty  clod  is  tasting 
One  drop  —  and  then  one  more. 

Oh,  ravishing  as  slumber 
To  wearied  limbs  and  eyes. 

And  countless  as  the  number 
Of  stars  in  wintry  skies, 

And  sweet  as  the  caresses 

By  baby  fingers  made. 
These  delicate  rain  kisses 

On  leaf  and  fiower  and  blade. 


i  1 

7 


i)i 


35 


1 


^^ 


The  Patient  Earth 

I 

THE  patient  earth  that  loves  the  grass, 
The  flocks  and  herds  that  o'er  it  pass, 
That  guards  the  smallest  summer  nest 
Within  her  scented  bosom  pressed, 
And  gives  to  beetle,  moth,  and  bee 
A  lavish  hospitality, 
Still  waits  through  weary  years  to  bind 
The  hearts  of  suff'ering  human  kind. 


p  1 


II 


How  far  we  roamed  away  from  her, 

The  tender  mother  of  us  all ! 

Yet  'mid  the  city's  noises  stir 

The  sound  of  birds  that  call  and  call, 

Wind  melodies  that  rise  and  fall 

Along  the  perfumed  woodland  wall 

We  looked  upon  v/ith  childhood's  eyes  ; 

The  ugly  streets  are  all  a  blur. 

And  in  our  hearts  are  homesick  cries. 


.36 


1 
F 
F 
A 
A 
A 
T 
A 
V 


\ , 


Ill 


3S, 


The  loving  earth  that  roots  the  trees 

So  closely  to  her  inmost  heart, 

Has  rooted  us  as  well  as  these, 

Not  long  from  her  we  live  apart ; 

We  draw  upon  a  lengthening  string, 

For  months  perhaps,  perhaps  for  years, 

And  plume  ourselves  that  we  are  free. 

And  then  —  we  hear  a  robin  sing 

Where  starving  grass  shows  stunted  spears, 

Or  haycart  moving  fragrantly 

Where  creaking  taven.  oign-boards  swing ; 

Then  closer,  tighter  draws  the  chain, 

The  man,  too  old  and  worn  for  tears, 

Goes  back  to  be  a  child  again. 


IV 


The  greed  that  took  us  prisoner 
First  led  our  steps  away  from  her ; 
For  lust  of  gold  we  gave  up  life. 
And  sank  heart-deep  in  worldly  strife. 
And  when  Success  —  beloved  name  — 
At  last  with  faltering  footsteps  came, 
The  city's  rough,  harsh  imps  of  sound 
And  Competition's  crush  and  cheat 
Were  in  her  wreath  securely  bound  ; 


37 


\ 


\' 


Her  fruits  still  savored  of  the  street, 

Its  choking  dust,  its  vsrearied  feet, 

Her  poorest  like  her  richest  prize 

Was  rotted  o'er  with  envious  eyes. 

And  sickened  with  the  human  heat 

Of  hands  that  strove  to  clutch  it  fast, 

And  struggling  gave  it  up  at  last. 

Not  so  where  nature  summer-crowned 

Makes  fields  and  woods  a  pleasure-ground. 

Sky-blest,  wind-kissed,  and  circled  round 

With  waters  lapsing  cool  and  sweet. 


O  Earth,  sweet  Mother,  take  us  back  ! 
With  woodland  strength  and  orchard  ^ 
And  river  peace  without  alloy, 
Flood  us  who  on  the  city's  track 
Have  followed  stifling  sordid  years, 
Cleanse  us  with  dew  and  meadow  rain. 
Till  life's  horizon  lights  and  clears, 
And  nature  claims  us  once  again. 


C 
1 


1 


38 


i 


At  Dawn 


A  SPIRIT  through 
My  window  came  when  earth  was  soft 
with  dew, 
Close  at  the  tender  edge  of  dawn  when  all 
The  spring  was  new, 

And  bore  me  back 
Along  her  rose-and-starry  tinted  track, 
And  showed   me  how  the   full-winged   day 
emerged  ^ 

From  out  the  black. 

She  knew  the  speech 
Of  all  the  deep-pink  blossoms  oi  the  peach. 
Told  m  my  ear  the  meanings  of  the  trees, 

The  thoughts  of  each  ; 

Explained  to  me 
The  language  of  the  bird  and  frog  and  bee, 
The  messages  the  streams  and  rivers  take 

Unto  the  sea. 


.1 


39 


ill 


I 


h  •/'. 


i       t 


1:^ 


Alas  !     Alas ! 
I  have  forgot.    The  dream  did  from  me  pass. 
I  know  not  e'en  the  meaning  dear  and  sweet 

Of  common  grass. 

And  now  when  I 
Roam  this  strange  earth  beneath  a  stranger 

sky, 
Soft  syllables  of  that  forgotten  speech 

Faint  as  a  sigh, 

Come  back  again, 
\A^ith  sweet  solicitings  that  urge  like  pain, 
And  brood  like  love  —  as  full  of  light  and  dark 

As  April  rain. 


1 


40 


r 


]  I 


In  the  Crowd 

HERE  in  the  crowded  city's  busy  street, 
Swayed   by  the  eager,  jostling,  hasting 
throng, 
Where  Traffic's  voice  grows  harsher  and 
more  strong, 
I  see  within  the  stream  of  hurrying  feet 
A  company  of  trees  in  their  retreat, 

Dew-bathed,  dream-wrapped,  and  with  a 

thrush's  song 
Emparadising  all  the  place,  along 
Whose  paths  I  hear  the  pulse  of  Beauty  beat. 

'T  was  yesterday  I  walked  beneath  the  trees, 
To-day  I  tread  the  city's  stony  ways  ; 
And  still  the   spell   that   o'er   my  spirit 
came 
Turns  harshest  sounds  to  shy  bird  ecstasies, 
Pours  scent  of  pine  through  murky  chimney 
haze. 
And  gives  each  careworn  face  a  woodland 
frame. 


it  '] 


a 


fif 


41 


» 


^ 


IT^- 


lf.it 


;)  i 


il 


By  Fields  of  Grass 

BY  fields  of  grass  and  woodland  silences 
The  city's  tumult  is  encamped  around; 
The  jingling,  clanging,  shrieking  fiends  of 
sound 
Expire  within  the  wide  world-circling  breeze. 
The  soul  amid  a  multitude  of  trees, 

Or  grass  enveloped  on  the  fragrant  ground, 
Is  lifted  to  its  utmost  starry  round, 
And  listens  to  celestial  harmonies. 

From  this  unspeakably  divine  rebirth, 

Its    sordid   life    returning   shows    through 
rifts 
How  purely  spreads  the  sky,  how  musical 
The    streams   and   breezes   flow  across  the 
earth. 
How  light  the  tree  its  fruity  load  uplifts, 
How  easily  the  weed  is  beautiful. 


;  I 


42 


October 


^ 


AGAINST   the  winter's  heav'n  of  white 
the  blood 
Of  earth  runs  very  quick  and  hot  to-day  ; 
A  storm  of  fiery  leaves  are  out  at  play 
Around  the  lingering  sunset  of  the  wood. 
Where  rows  of  blackberries  unnoticed  stood, 
Run  streams  of  ruddy  color  wildly  gay  ; 
The  golden  lane  half  dreaming  picks  its 
way 
Through    'whelming    vines,    as     through     a 
gleaming  flood. 

O  warm,  outspoken  earth,  a  little  space 
Against  thy  beating  heart  my  heart  shall 
beat, 
A  little  while  they  twaii  shall  bleed  and 
burn, 
And  then  the  cold  touch  and  the  gray,  gray 
face, 
The  frozen  pulse,  the  drifted  winding-sheet. 
And  speechlessness,  and  the  chill  burial 
urn. 


)| 


I 


!-■' 


43 


A  y 


i4    \i 


Winter 


V 


Now  that  the  earth  has  hid  her  lovely 
brood 
Of  green  things  in  her  breast  safe  cut  of 

sight, 
And  all  the  trees  have  stripped  them  for 
the  fight, 
The  winter  comes  with  wild  winds  singing 

rude 
Hoarse  battle  songs —  so  furious  in  feud 
That  nothing  lives  that  has  not  felt  their 

bite. 
They  sound  a  trumpet  in  the  dead  of  night 
That  makes  more  solitary  solitude. 

Against  the  forest  doors  how  fierce  they  beat ! 
Against    the    porch,    against   the    school- 
bound  boy 
With  crimson  cheek  bent  to  his  shaggy 
coat. 
The    earth    is    pale    but    steadfast,    hearing 
sweet 
But  far  —  how  far  away  !  the  stream  of  joy 
Outpouring   from    a    bluebird's    tender 
throat. 
44 


'# 


1' 


The  Snow-Storm 

THE  great,  soft,  downy  snow-storm  like  a 
cloak 
Descends  to  wrap  the  lean  world  head  to 

feet ; 
It  gives  the  dead  another  winding-sheet, 
It  buries  all  the  roofs  until  the  smoke 
Seems   like  a  soul   that   from   its   clay  has 
broke ; 
It   broods   moon-like    upon    the    Autumn 

wheat, 
And  visits  all  the  trees  in  their  retreat. 
To  hood  and  mantle  that  poor  shiv'ring  folk. 

W^ith    wintry    bloom    it    fills    the    harshest 
grooves 
In  jagged  pine  stump  fences.    Every  sound 
It  hushes  to  the  footstep  of  a  nun. 
Sweet    Charity !     that    brightens    where    it 
moves. 
Inducing  darkest  bits  of  churlish  ground 
To  give  a  radiant  answer  to  the  sun. 


■   ;  C 

1    ■.  <■ 


k 


<  -I   I 


I 


45 


■J'! 


^ 


7f^ 


Pi' 


I  i 


f''  '-'i 


i 


To  February 


O MASTER-BUILDER,  blustering  as  you 
go 
About  your  giant  work,  transforming  all 
The  empty  woods  into  a  glittering  hall, 
And  making  lilac  lanes  and  footpaths  grow 
As  hard  as  iron  under  stubborn  snow, 

Though  every  fence  stand  forth  a  marble 

w^all. 
And  windy  hollows  drift  to  arches  tall, 
There  comes  a  might  that  shall  your  might 
o'erthrow. 

Build  high  your  white  and  dazzling  palaces, 
Strengthen  your  bridges,  fortify  your  tow- 
ers. 
Storm  with  a  loud  and  a  portentous  lip ; 
And  April  with  a  fragmentary  breeze. 
And  half  a  score  of  gentle,  golden  hours. 
Shall  leave  no  trace  of  your  stern  work- 
manship. 


46 


Rest 


"N 


FROM  the  depths  of  dreams  I  am  drawn 
To  the  inner  depth  of  a  pine, 
That  near  my  window  keeps  the  dawn  — 

A  dawn  that  is  wholly  mine. 
Dream-rest  and  pine-rest, 

And  a  cool,  gray  path  between  — 
A  cool,  gray  path  from  the  night's  breast 
To  the  heart  of  the  living  green. 

To  the  depths  of  dreams  I  go 

On  the  sounds  of  falling  rain, 
That  in  the  night-time  gently  flow 

In  a  stream  on  my  window-pane. 
Stream-rest  and  dream-rest, 

And  a  cool,  dark  path  between  — 
A  cool,  dark  path  from  the  rain's  breast 

To  the  heart  of  the  soft  unseen. 


'   ! 


■i-' 


'•I 


if 


47 


1^ 


The  Shy  Sun 


THE  sun  went  with  me  to  the  wood, 
And  hngered  at  the  door ; 
One  glance  he  gave  from  where  he  stood, 
But  dared  not  venture  more. 

Nor  knew  that  in  the  heart  of  her 

Who  felt  his  presence  nigh, 
His  love  was  all  the  lovelier 

Because  his  look  was  shy. 


48 


In  April 


us 


d, 


WHEN  Spring  unbound  comes  o'er 
like  a  flood, 
My  spirit  slips  its  bars, 
And  thrills  to  see  the  trees  break  into  bud 
As  skies  break  into  stars ; 


And  joys  that  earth  is  green  with  eager  grass, 
The  heavens  gray  with  rain, 

And  quickens  when  the  spirit  breezes  pass, 
And  turn  and  pass  again  ; 


And  dreams  upon  frog  melodies  at  night, 

Bird  ecstasies  at  dawn, 
And  wakes  to  find  sweet  April  at  her  height 

And  May  still  beck'ning  on  ; 

And  feels  its  sordid  work,  its  empty  play. 

Its  failures  and  its  stains 
Dissolved  in  blossom  dew,  and  washed  away 

In  delicate  spring  rains. 


I 


1 

;2   n 


I 


i 


49 


a- 


A 


I, 


Apple  Blossoms 

AMID  the  young  year's  breathing  hopes, 
When  eager  grasses  ^vrap  the  earth, 
I  see  on  greening  orchard  slopes 

The  blossoms  trembling  into  birth. 
They  open  wide  their  rosy  palms 

To  feel  the  hesitating  rain, 
Or  beg  a  longed-for  golden  alms 

From  skies  that  deep  in  clouds  have  lain. 

They  mingle,  with  the  bluebird's  songs. 

And  with  the  warm  wind's  reverie  ; 
To  sward  and  stream  their  snow  belongs, 

To  neighboring  pines  in  flocks  they  flee. 
O  doubly  crowned,  with  breathing  hopes 

The  branches  bending  down  to  earth, 
That  feel  on  greening  orchard  slopes 

Their  blossoms  trembling  into  birth. 


1 

E 

I 
I 


M 
M 


50 


1 


The  Big  Moon 

THE  big  moon  came  to  the  edge  of  the  sky. 
And  pierced  me  with  its  dart ; 
I  strove  to  put  its  brightness  by 
Before  it  burned  my  heart. 

I  wrapped  the  windows  thick  and  well, 

I  closely  barred  the  door, 
The  light  of  my  penny  candles  fell 

On  low-built  wall  and  floor. 

The  little  room  and  the  little  light 

Began  to  comfort  me  ; 
But  I  heard  —  I  heard  the  golden  night 

Call  like  a  sounding  sea. 

I  knew  the  moon  swam  in  the  sky, 
And  the  earth  swam  in  the  moon ; 

I  went  outside  in  the  grass  to  lie, 
To  yield  to  the  deadly  swoon. 

My  soul  was  filled  with  white  moon  rain 

Till  it  ran  o'er  and  o'er, 
My  soul  was  thrilled  with  bright  moon  pain 

Till  it  could  bear  no  more ; 

51 


k 


A  I 


n 


If 

I! 


I  Stole  back  through  the  curtained  gloom 

Up  stairs  unlit  and  steep, 
And  in  a  low-ceikd  darkened  room 

My  hurt  was  healed  with  sleep. 


5a 


The  Twins 


THE  old  man  and  his  apple-tree 
Are  verging  close  on  eighty-three  ; 
*Twas  planted  there  when  he  was  two. 
And  almost  side  by  side  they  grew. 
How  strong  and  straight  they  were  at  eight. 
One  leafy,  one  with  curly  pate. 
How  fine  at  twenty,  how  alive 
And  prosperous  at  twenty-five. 
What  health  and  grace  in  every  limb, 
Was  said  of  it  —  was  said  of  him. 


i 

!» 


|:ii 


'f 


II 


Then  when  he  blushed,  a  marriage  groom, 
The  tree  outvied  the  bride  in  bloom  ; 
And  in  the  after  years  there  played 
Within  its  ample  sweep  of  shade 
A  little  child,  with  cheeks  as  red 
As  had  the  apples  overhead. 
Her  father  called  the  tree  his  twin. 
And  surely  it  was  next  of  kin. 

53 


:k 


I 

it 
I 


.' 


I J 


*  ' 


III 


'  T 


If 


The  best  of  life  came  to  the  twain, 
The  beauty  of  the  stars,  the  rain, 
Soft  stepping,  and  the  hquid  notes 
That  overflow  from  feathered  throats. 
Unto  the  soul  that  selfish  strives 
Was  borne  the  fragrance  of  their  lives, 
And  anxious  folk  with  brow  down  bent 
Bathed  in  their  dewv  cool  content. 
They  held  their  heads  up  in  the  storm. 
And  gloried  when  the  winds  were  warm  ; 
Their  shadows  lay  but  at  their  feet, 
And  all  of  life  above  was  sweet. 


IV 


And  now  that  they  are  eighty-three 
They  re  almost  as  they  used  to  be. 
The  blossoms  are  as  pink  and  white, 
The  old  man's  heart  as  pure  and  light. 
The  apples  —  fragrant  balls  of  flame  — 
Are  looking,  tasting,  just  the  same. 
And  just  the  same  his  uttered  thought 
Of  mirth  and  wisdom  quaintly  wrought. 
Through  all  their  years  they  kept  their  truth, 
Their  strength,  and  that  sweet  look  of  youth. 


1 


54 


^1 


Autumn  Fire 


THE  fires  of  Autumn  are  burning  high  ; 
Bright  the  trees  in  the  woods  are  blaz- 
ing— 
A  w^all  of  flame  from  the  bi  iliiant  sky 

Down  to  the  fields  where  the  cattle  are 
grazing. 
O  the  warm,  warm  end  of  the  year  ! 

Even  the  shrubs  their  red  hearts  render ; 
All  the  bushes  are  bright  with  cheer 
And  the  tamest  vine  has  a  touch  of  splen- 
dor. 

The  fires  of  Autumn  are  burning  low ; 

Blow,  ye  winds,  and  cease  not  blowing  ! 
Blow  the  flames  to  a  ruddier  show, 

Heap  the  coals  to  a  hotter  glowing. 
Ah,  the  chill,  chill  end  of  the  year  ! 

Naught  is  left  but  a  few  leaf  flashes  ; 
White  is  the  death  stone,  white  and  drear, 

Over  a  desolate  world  of  ashes. 


55 


.1 


I 


■■■■■Mm 


I 


^' 


4J 


J  '■  ■  »•■ 


^1 


1-1 


In  the  Grass 

FACE  downward  on  the  grass  in  reverie, 
I  found  how  cool  and  sweet 
Are  the  green  glooms  that  often  thoughtlessly 
I  tread  beneath  my  feet. 

In  this  strange  mimic  wood  where  grasses 
lean  — 

Elf  trees  untouched  of  bark  — 
I  heard  the  hum  of  insects,  saw  the  sheen 

Of  sunlight  framing  dark, 

And  felt  with  thoughts  I  cannot  understand, 
And  know  not  how  to  speak, 

A  daisy  reaching  up  its  little  hand 
To  lay  it  on  my  cheek. 


56 


The  Fields  of  Dark 


THE  wreathing  vine  within  the  porch 
Is  in  the  heart  of  me, 
The  roses  that  the  noondays  scorch 

Shall  burn  in  memory  ; 
Alone  at  night  I  quench  the  light, 

And  without  star  or  spark 
The  grass  and  trees  press  to  my  knees, 
And  flowers  throng  the  dark. 

The  leaves  that  loose  their  hold  at  noon 

Drop  on  my  face  like  rain, 
And  in  the  watches  of  the  moon 

I  feel  them  fall  again. 
By  day  I  stray  hov/  far  away 

To  stream  and  wood  and  steep, 
But  on  my  track  they  all  come  back 

To  haunt  the  vale  of  sleep. 

The  fields  of  li  ht  are  clover-brimmed, 

Or  grassed  or  daisy-starred. 
The  fi  Ids  of  dark  are  softly  dimmed, 

And  >afely  twilight-barred ; 


(  i 


57 


\\ 


I    t 


) 


f 


If 


But  in  the  gloom  that  fills  my  room 

I  cannot  fail  to  mark 
The  grass  and  trees  about  my  knees, 

The  flowers  in  the  dark. 


C 


58 


'  / 


I 


^ 


Children  in  the  City 

THOUSANDS    of    childish    ears,    rough 
chidden, 
Never  a  sweet  bird-note  have  heard, 
Deep  in  the  leafy  woodland  hidden 
Dies,  unlistened  to,  many  a  bird. 
For  small  soiled  hands  in  the  sordid  city 

Blossoms  open  and  die  unbreathed  ; 
For  feet  unwashed  by  the  tears  of  pity 
Streams   around   meadows    of   green   are 
wreathed. 

Warm,  unrevelled  in,  still  they  wander. 

Summer  breezes  out  in  the  fields ; 
Scarcely  noticed,  the  green  months  squander 

All  the  wealth  that  the  summer  yields. 
Ah,  the  pain  of  it !     Ah,  the  pity  ! 

Opulent  stretch  the  country  skies 
Over  solitudes,  while  in  the  city 

Starving  for  beauty  are  childish  eyes. 


•; 

t 


59 


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pi 


% 


Where  Pleasures  Grow 

WHERE   pleasures    grow  as    thick   as 
grass, 
And  joys  of  silence,  soft,  profound, 
Are  sweeter  e'en  than  joys  of  sound, 
The  long,  long  days  of  summer  pass. 

I  see  them  sitting  in  the  sun, 

Or  moving  river-like  between 

The  climbing  and  down-bending  green, 

I  watch  them  vanish  one  by  one. 

And  strive  to  clasp  them  as  they  flee, 
But  only  hold  their  shadows  fast  — 
The  summer  shadows  that  they  cast 

Upon  the  path  of  memory. 


.1: 


IV 


60 


li 


I  If! 

I 


i^ 


In  the  Heart  of  the  Woods 


I  LOST  my  heart  in  the  heart  of  the  woods ; 
It  stayed  there  through  the  day, 
It  stayed  there  through  the  solitudes 
Of  a  night  with  no  moon  ray. 

Through  the  day  so  dusty,  worn  and  sere 

My  heart  ^vas  cool  and  free, 
Through  the  wild  night,  tempest-tossed  and 
drear. 

My  heart  slept  peacefully. 

I  found  my  heart  in  the  heart  of  the  woods, 

I  looked  on  it  and  smiled  ; 
And  over  it  still  the  woodland  broods, 

As  a  mother  over  her  child. 


i  f 


6i 


■II 


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El      -    ^ 

1     I 


»t 


- 


III 

(I 


Frost 

WHEN  the  sun  is  growing  weaker, 
And  his  look  is  meek  and  meeker, 
Comes  the  frost  — the  pale  betrayer  — 
Light  of  foot,  a  stealthy  slayer. 

In  the  night  abroad  he  stealeth, 
For  each  trembling  leaf  he  feeleth  ; 
Something  softened  by  its  pleading, 
Kills  it  not  but  leaves  it  bleeding. 


62 


St  . 


The  Chipmunk 

TO-DAY  the  green  hill  was  at  strife 
With  me ;  it  robbed  my  feet  of  life. 
The  wind  that  loudly  speaks  his  mind, 
Said  in  my  presence  nothing  kind. 
The  sky's  clear  face  was  from  me  turned, 
Behind  a  cloud  his  great  hre  burned. 

An  exile  in  his  native  cot, 

Who  finds  his  very  name  forgot. 

Was  I  this  afternoon,  until 

At  the  wood's  edge  behind  the  hill, 

A  chipmunk  flashed,  and  leapt  a  limb. 

And  took  my  heart  away  with  him. 


h 


63 


i 


'* 


,\' 


Give  Me  the  Poorest 
Weed 

GIVE  me  the  poorest  weed 
To  satisfy  my  spirit's  need. 
The  brownest  blade  of  grass 
Will  know  and  greet  me  when  I  pass. 

Of  their  own  feeling  wrought, 
They  live  like  s     iple,  vital  thought ; 
The  mind  could  not  invent 
A  better  thing  than  Nature  meant. 


64 


l! 


^ 


The  Weeks  that  Walk 
in  Green 

THE  weeks  that  walk  in  green 
Came  to  my  willow  lane, 
And  wrapt  me  in  their  leafy  screen 
Against  the  sun  and  rain. 

Then  far  and  far  we  went 

By  stream  and  wood  and  steep, 

Until,  all  love-worn  and  joy-spent, 
I  yielded  me  to  sleep. 

And  they  —  they  died  unseen  ; 

Their  ghosts  are  haunting  me  — 
The  gentle  ghosts  that  walk  in  green 

Through  vales  of  memory. 


65 


] 


/ll 


'( 


Noonday  of  the  Year 

THE  streams  that  chattered  in  the  cold 
Are  sleeping  in  the  sun  ; 
The  winds  of  March  were  overbold 
Until  their  race  was  run. 

O  mad  with  haste  the  morning  went, 
But  now  love-warm  and  deep, 

The  fields,  their  first  ambition  spent, 
Lie  in  their  noonday  sleep. 


66 


il 


III 


■ 


1 


The  Wind  World 

ALONE  within  the  wind  I  lie, 
And  reck  not  how  the  seasons  go ; 
The  winter  struggling  through  its  snow, 
The  light-winged  summer  flitting  by. 

I  am  not  of  the  cloud  nor  mold, 
I  move  between  the  stars  and  flowers, 
I  know  the  tingling  touch  of  hours 

When  all  the  storms  of  night  unfold. 

Within  the  wind  world  drifting  free 
I  hear  naught  of  earth's  murmurings, 
Naught  but  the  sound  of  songs  and  wings 

Among  the  tree-tops  comes  to  me. 

At  night  earth  stars  flash  out  below, 
And  heaven  stars  shine  out  above ; 
I  look  down  on  the  lights  of  love, 

And  feel  the  higher  love-lights  glow. 


67 


fimr 


\\ 


■  1 

1- 


^^ 


0 


l» 


At  the  Window 

Ho  Vl'  thick  about  the  window  of  my  life 
"Buzz  insect-like  the  tribe  of  petty  frets  : 
Small  cares,  small  thoughts,  small  trials,  and 
small  strife, 
Small   loves  and  hates,  small  hopes  and 
small  regrets. 

If  'mid  +his  swarm  of  smallnesses  remain 
A  single  undimmed  spot,  with  w^ondering 
eye 
I  note  before  my  freckled  window-pane 
The   outstretched    splendor   of    the   earth 
and  sky. 


68 


R 


e 

s: 
md 

ind 


ing 
rth 


I 


Come  Back  Again 

CHILD-THOUGHTS,      child-thoughts, 
come  back  again  ! 
Faint,  fitful,  as  yon  used  io  be  ; 
The  dusty  chambers  of  my  brain 

Have  need  of  your  fair  company, 
As  when  my  child-head  reached  the  height 

Of  the  wild  rose-bush  at  the  door, 
And  all  of  heaven  and  its  delight 

Bloomed  in  the  flow'rs  the  old  bush  bore. 

Come  back,  sweet  long-departed  year, 

When,  sitting  in  a  hollow  oak, 
I  heard  the  sheep  bells  far  and  clear, 

I  heard  a  voice  that  silent  spoke- 
And  felt  in  both  a  vague  appeal, 

And  both  were  mingled  in  my  dreams 
With  leaves  that  view^less  breezes  feel, 

And  skies  clea;  mirrored  in  the  streams. 

Child-heart,  child-thoughts,  come  back  again ! 

Bring  back  the  tall  grass  at  my  cheek. 
The  grief  more  swift  than  summer  rain, 

The  joy  that  knew  no  words  to  speak. 

69 


I 


I 


The  buttercup's  uplifted  gold 

That  strives  to  reach  my  hands  in  vain, 
The  love  *;hat  never  could  grow  cold  — 

Child-heart,    child-thoughts,    come     back 
again ! 


1. 


I 


70 


am, 
back 


A  Rainy  Morning 

THE  low  sky,  and  the  warm,  wet  wind, 
And  the  tender  light  on  the  eyes  ; 
A  day  like  a  soul  that  has  never  sinned, 
New  dropped  from  Paradise. 

And  'tis  oh,  for  a  long  walk  in  the  rain. 
By  the  side  of  the  warm,  wet  breeze. 

With  the  thoughts  washed  clean  of  dust  and 
stain 
As  the  leaves  on  the  shining  trees. 


I 


71 


3  \ 


m 


June  Apples 


GREEN  apple  branches  full  of  green  apples 
All  around  me  unfurled, 
Here   where    the    shade    and    the    sunlight 
dapples 
A  grass-green,  apple-green  world. 

Little  green  children  stirred  with  the  heaving 

Of  the  warm  breast  of  the  air, 
"When  your  old  nurse,  the  wind,  is  grieving 

Comfortlessly  you  fare. 

But  now  an  old-time  song  she  is  crooning, 

Nestle  your  heads  again. 
While  I  dr(  am  on  through  the  golden  noon- 
ing, 

Or  look  for  the  first  red  stain 

On    some    round    cheek    that   the    sunshine 
dapples. 

Near  me  w^here  X  lie  curled 
Under  green  trees  athrong  with  green  apples. 

In  a  grass-green,  apple-green  world. 


72 


pies 
ight 


ng 

R>  f 

>on- 


line 


les, 


Beginning  and  End 

ONCE  it  was  in  my  life's  beginning, 
Roses  were  tall  in  their  summer  beds. 
Dandelions  within  my  fingers 

Thrust  their  confident  golden  heads  ; 
^vVading  waist-deep  'mid  the  daisies, 

Feeling  the  grasses  about  me  climb  — 
Thus  it  was  in  my  life's  beginning ; 

What  have  you  done  to  me,  Father  Time  ? 

So  shall  it  be  when  life  has  ended : 

Roses  shall  bloom  above  my  head, 
Dandelions  will  know  I  am  lying 

Hidden  in  grass  from  foot  to  head. 
Hidden  in  grass  and  hidden  in  daisies, 

Over  my  breast  I  shall  feel  them  climb, 
Thus  it  will  be  when  life  has  ended ; 

This  will  you  do  to  me,  Father  Time. 


73 


&:..,3?ft-^:-_'rt.' 


i 


Ll 


\  i 


Not  at  Home 

THE  Weariness  of  Idleness, 
She  waited  all  the  day 
In  the  parlor  of  her  neighbor, 
The  Weariness  of  Labor  — 
A  visit  she  had  long  meant  to  pay. 

But  not  until  the  evening 
Did  her  hostess  come  in  sight ; 

Then  the  Weariness  of  Labor 

Explained  unto  her  neighbor 
That  she  lived  but  a  brief  hour  at  night. 


75 


hi 


The  Wind  of  Memory 

RED  curtains  shut  the  storm  from  sight, 
The  inner  rooms  are  live  with  light ; 
The  fireside  faces  all  aglow 
See  not  the  pale  ghost  in  the  snow, 
The  pale  ghost  at  the  window  pressed. 
With  the  wind  moaning  in  her  breast. 

She  sees  the  face  she  hurt  with  scorn, 

The  other  face  where  joy,  new  born, 

Died  out  at  her  cheap  mockery ; 

The  eyes  she  filled,  how  bitterly ! 

The  head  that  drooped  beneath  her  jest  — 

The  wind  is  moaning  in  her  breast. 

Invisible,  unfelt,  unknown, 
She  lingers  trembling.     She  alone 
Notes  tenderly  her  vacant  place, 
And  sees  in  it  her  vanished  face ; 
She  only  —  of  this  happy  nest  I 
The  wind  is  moaning  in  her  breast. 

Star-like  the  happy  windows  glow. 
Framed  in  with  mile  on  mile  of  snow ; 
And  from  their  light  a  thing  of  death, 
76 


ght, 
t; 


Of  grief  and  memory  vanisheth, 
Her  sin  not  deep  but  unredressed, 
And  the  wind  moaning  in  her  breast. 


I 


it  — 


77 


iMi 


k 


\ 


Philippa 


A  GENEROUS  gentleness  that  flowed, 
Stream-like,  beside  a  dusty  road  ; 
Ga/e  laborers  shade,  and  prisoners  sun, 
And  easeful  joy  to  every  one  ; 
W^itih  liquid  melodies  for  such 
As  worked  or  wearied  overmuch. 
And  ministrations  cool  and  sweet 
For  fevered  hands  and  aching  feet. 

So  delicately  fair  she  moved  — 
That  stream-like  girl,  of  all  beloved. 
Alon.    her  path  no  grief  nor  care 
But  lulled  and  lightened  unaware. 
She  bore  the  sky  \vithin  her  breast, 
And  child-like  winds  her  soul  caressed, 
Until  her  spring  of  life  was  dried, 
And  with  a  smile  Philippa  died. 


78 


d, 


The  Student 

THE  student  sits  within  his  room, 
So  small  and  worn  and  white ; 
His  lamp  flames  out  remote  and  strange 
Through  all  the  hours  of  night. 

And  all  day  long  within  his  face. 
So  small  and  worn  and  white. 

His  eyes  flame  out  —  those  lamp-like  eyes, 
So  weirdly,  strangely  bright. 


79 


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Unspoken 


MY  lover  comes  down  the  long  leafy  street 
Through  tenderly  falling  rain  ; 
His  footsteps  near  our  portal  veer, 
Go  past  —  then  turn  again. 

O  can  it  be  he  is  knocking  below, 

Or  here  at  my  door  above  ? 
So  gentle  and  small  it  sounds  in  the  hall, 

So  loud  in  the  ear  of  love. 

But  never  a  word  of  love  has  he  said. 

And  never  a  w^ord  crave  I, 
For  why  should  cne  long  for  the  daylight 
strong 

When  the  dawn  is  in  the  sky  ? 

O  a  dewy  rose-garden  is  the  house, 

A  garden  shut  from  the  sun ; 
The  breath  of  it  sweet  floats  up,  as  my  feet 

Float  down  to  my  waiting  one. 

But  if  ever  a  word  of  love  thinks  he, 
It  falls  from  his  heart  still-born ; 


80 


M 


\ 

I 

I 

i 


Who  bends  to  the  rose  does   not  haste  to 
close 

His  hand  around  bud  and  thorn. 

The  beautiful  soul  that  is  in  him  turns 

His  beautiful  face  agleam  ; 
My  own  soul  flies  to  feast  in  his  eyes 

Where  the  silent  love-words  teem.' 

Our  talk  is  of  books,  and  of  thoughts  and 

moods, 
Of  the   wild  flowers  in  the   rain  • 
And   he   leans  his  cheek,  when  we  do  not 

speak. 

On  his  chair  where  my  hand  had  lain. 

Yet  never  a  word  of  love  does  he  say, 

And  never  a  word  crave  I ; 
For    the    faint    green     May    would    wither 
away 

At  the  quick  touch  of  July. 

And  at  last  — at  last  we  look  our  las*, 
And  the  dim  day  grcws  more  dim  ; ' 

But   his    eyes    still    shine  in  these  eyes  of 
mine, 
And  my  soul  goes  forth  with  him. 


8i 


i 


For  though  not  a  word  of  love  does  he  say, 

Still  never  a  word  crave  I ; 
For  the  words  of  earth  are  of  little  worth 

When  a  song  drops  out  of  the  sky. 


K     )'■ 


82 


^ 


lay, 
th 


Under  the  King 

LOVE  with  the  deep  eyes  and  foft  hair, 
Love  with  the  lily  throat  and  hands, 
Is  done  to  death,  and  free  as  air 
Am  I  of  all  my  King's  commands. 

How  shall  I  celebrate  my  joy  ? 

Or  dance  with  feet  that  once  were  fleet 
In  his  adorable  employ  ? 

Or  laugh  with  lips  that  felt  his  sweet  ? 

How  can  I  at  I  is  lifeless  face 

Aim  any  sharp  or  bitter  jest, 
Since  roguish  destiny  did  place 

That  tender  target  in  my  breast  ? 

Nay,  let  me  be  sincere  and  strong ; 

I  cannot  rid  me  of  my  chains, 
I  cannot  to  myself  belong, 

My  King  is  dead —  his  soul  still  reigns. 


f-- 


83 


.1;  J 

i 
m 


1 


The  Secret 


SOME  chance  moment  life  confesses 
That  her  insect  nothingnesses 
Carry  honey  with  their  stings, 
But  't  is  only  to  their  kings  — 
Those  who  know  how  best  to  use  them, 
Those  -who  know  how  to  refuse  them  — 
That  the  secret  is  made  free, 
And  souls  are  loosed  from  tyranny. 


Hi 


«4 


ii       l>: 


Limitation 

BEYOND  the  far  horizon's  farthest  bound 
A  farther  boundary  lies  ; 
No  spirit  wing  can  reach  the  utmost  round. 
No  spirit  eyes. 

The  soul  has  limitations  such  as  space, 

Such  as  eternity ; 
The  farthest  star  to  which  thou  setst  thy  face 

Belongs  to  thee. 


85 


Three  Years  Old 


I 


WHAT  is  it  like,  I  wonder,  to  roam 
Down  through  the  tall  grass  hidden 
quite  ? 
To  feel  very  far  away  from  home 

When  the  dear  house  is  out  of  sight  ? 

To  want  to  play  with  the  broken  moon 

In  the  star  garden  of  the  skies  ? 
To  sleep  through  twilight  eves  of  June 

Beneath  the  sound  of  lullabies  ? 


t 


:'  A 


To  hold  up  hurts  for  all  to  see, 

Sob  at  imaginary  harms, 
To  clasp  in  welcome  a  father's  knee, 

And  fit  so  well  to  a  mother's  arms  ? 

To  have  life  bounded  by  one  dull  road, 
A  wood  and  a  pond,  and  to  feel  no  lack. 

To  gaze  with  pleasure  upon  a  toad, 
And  caress  a  mud-turtle's  horny  back  ? 

To  follow  the  robin's  cheerful  hop 
With  all  the  salt  small  hands  can  hold, 


\i 


86 


dden 


And  plead  in  vain  for  it  to  stop  — 

What  is  it  like  to  be  three  years  old  ? 

Ah,  once  I  knew,  but  't  was  long  ago ; 

I  try  to  recall  it  in  vain  —  in  vain  ! 
And  now  I  know  I  shall  never  know 

What  it  is  to  be  a  child  again. 


87 


Sometime,  I  Fear 


r.  H. 


^r 


SOMETIME,  I  fear,  but  God  alone  knows 
when, 
Mine  eyes  shall  gaze  on  your  unseeing  eyes, 
On  your  unheeding  ears  shall  fall  my  cries, 
Your  clasp  shall  cease,  your  soul  go  from  my 

ken, 
Your  great  heart  be  a  fire  burned  out.  —  Ah, 
then, 
What  shall  remain  for  me  beneath  the  skies 
Of  glad,  or  good,  or  beautiful,  or  wise, 
That  can  relume  and  thrill  my  life  again  ? 

This  shall  remain,  a  love  that  cannot  fail, 
A  life  that  joys  in  your  great  joy ,  yet  grieves 
In  memory  of  sweet  days  fled  too  soon. 
Sadness  divine  !  as  when  November  pale 
Sits   broken-hearted   'mong   her  withered 
leaves, 
And  feels  the  wind  about  her  warm  as 
June. 


\    .1 


88 


'  *•-.-- 


Joy 


:nows 

eyes, 
cries, 
m  my 

-Ah, 

skies 

1? 

il, 

ieves 

oon. 

le 

iiered 

m  as 


WHEN  airy  joy  doth  hail  me 
I  follow  on  behind, 
And  lest  my  feet  should  fail  me 

I  follow  on  the  wind  ; 
I  hear  her  lightsome  laughter 

Go  floating  past  the  door, 
And  swift  I  follow  after 
As  she  flies  on  before. 

When  I  am  faint  and  falling. 

And  lose  her  skyey  wings, 
I  hear  her  liquid  calling, 

And  feel  the  charm  she  flings 
On  all  the  earth  and  o'er  me, 

Then  eagerly  I  rise, 
And  see  her  skirts  before  me 

Go  glittering  up  the  skies. 

The  best  of  life  would  daunt  me 
Ungirdled  by  her  grace, 

And  foreign  demons  haunt  me 
Whene'er  she  hides  her  face. 


89 


*>*»,^T.*#i*f«i 


t^- 


I 


h 


up  roughest  steeps  with  laughter 

My  airy  joy  doth  soar, 
As  wind-like  I  come  after, 

And  she  flies  on  before. 


i 


i 


90 


;r 


ii 


I 


In  the  Dark 


ALL  in  the  dark  he  crossed  the  border ! 
All  in  the  dark,  for  the  lamp  of  faith 
Had  never  been  used,  and  was  not  in  order - 
So  all  in  the  dark  he  encountered  Death. 


I 


91 


mmgftmgftm'—-^^  - 


Words 


I  LIKE    those  words    that    carry  in   their 
veins 
The  blood  of  lions.     "  Liberty  "  is  one, 
And  "Justice,"  and  the  heart  leaps  to  the 
sun 
When  the  thrilled  note  of  ♦*  Cour-^ge  !  Cour- 
age !  "  rains 
Upon  the  sorely  stricken  will.     No  pains 
Survive  when  '*  Life"  and  "  Light,"  twin 

glories,  run 
From  the  quick  page  to  some  poor  soul 
undone, 
And  beggar  by  their  glov.   dli  other  gains. 

How  splendidly  does  *' Morning"  flood  our 
night ! 
How  the  word  **  Ocean  "  drowns  our  in- 
sect cares. 
And  drives  a  strong  wind  through  our 
housed-up  grief. 
While  "Honor"  lifts   us   to   the  mountain 
height ; 
And  "  Loyalty  "  the  heaviest  burden  bears 

As  lightly  as  a  tree  a  crimson  leaf. 
92 


leir 


the 

►ur- 

win 

V 

ioul 

1 

.  i 

our 

^ 

in- 

cur 

:ain 

i 

ars 

1 

The  Wind  of  Death 

THE  wind  of  death  that  softly  blows 
The  last  warm  petal  from  the  rose. 
The  last  dry  leaf  from  off  the  tree, 
To-night  has  come  to  breathe  on  me. 

There  was  a  time  I  learned  to  hate 
As  weaker  mortals  learn  to  love ; 
The  passion  held  me  fixed  as  fate, 
Burned  in  my  veins  early  and  late  — 
But  now  a  wind  falls  from  above  — 

The  V    xd  of  death,  that  silently 
Enshroudeth  friend  and  enemv. 

There  was  a  time  my  soul  was  thrilled 

By  keen  ambition's  whip  and  spur  ; 
My  master  forced  me  where  he  willed, 
And  with  his  pow^er  my  life  was  filled, 
But  now  the  old-time  pulses  stir 

How  faintly  ii>  the  wind  of  death  ! 
That  bloweth  lightly  as  a  breath. 


93 


r 

4  '  t, 
! 


And  once,  but  once,  at  Love's  dear  feet 
I  yielded  strength  and  life  and  heart ; 
His  look  turned  bitter  into  sweet. 
His  smile  made  all  the  world  complete  — 
The  wind  blows  loves  like  leaves  apart 

The  wind  of  death,  that  tenderly 
Is  blowing  'twixt  my  love  and  me. 

0  wind  of  death,  that  darkly  blows 
Each  separate  ship  of  human  woes 
Far  out  on  a  mysterious  sea, 

1  turn,  I  turn  my  face  to  thee. 


a 


94 


rt 


M 


1 


Printed  at  the  Everett  Press  Bostoa 


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